


Triptych

by Roarsthedandelion



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Identity Reveal, No Tikki or Plagg, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roarsthedandelion/pseuds/Roarsthedandelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Adrien, it was like she'd vanished without a trace. She hadn't- she was still in Paris- but every lead only lead to a dead end. He'd been run ragged before, and maybe his body was tired of this abuse, because he knew the feeling in his tired legs, his aching chest, and his fuzzy, pounding head meant that his own determination wasn't enough. </p><p>He needed her.</p><p>And she'd rather watch him die a thousand deaths than the one he was barreling towards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is about 26 pages of awful, and it wouldn't stop nagging at me until I sat down and wrote it. Sorry.

Springtime, she found, was neither the warmest nor the driest of seasons. Usually, this was comforting, as she’d walk about Paris with her favorite black umbrella and process the insanity that made up her life. There were just as few people as when she ran along the rooftops, but it was considerably safer if she fell. And as the sounds of raindrops falling echoed off of leaves and between buildings, she felt this sense of unity with the city overwhelm her.

That day, however, it was considerably more disturbing. She found him in the park by her home, although she had no idea why. His old home was blocks from here, and she was sure someone had to be out looking for him. But there he was, shaking in his sleep on a wooden bench, all alone in the storm. It’d been years since they went to school together, and while she still had a plethora of feelings for him, the idea that he’d been there to see her never crossed her mind.

Then he shivered again, and every other thought about what it was that had brought the two of them here, together, was obliterated. He’s definitely going to get a cold, she mused, and could do with some soup and dry clothes. But she couldn’t carry him around as Marinette, and right now wasn’t a great time to transform, so she’d definitely have to wake him, too.

“Adrien.” It took a couple of tries for him to stir, but then he did and she graced him with a dazzling smile. “It’s pretty wet out here, isn’t it? Come with me.”

He looked disoriented to say the least, but he let her pull him to his feet and followed her back to her home. Adrien’s steps were clumsy, arhythmic and unbalanced. She had him lean on her for support and found that he was surprisingly light. Maybe she could have carried him as Marinette, although she thought that bystanders may get the wrong impression.

Opening the door and managing the stairs were a hassle, but it was worth it. Compared to the streets of Paris, her apartment was a balmy getaway, warm and light. First, she found a towel to help him dry off and led him to the bathroom to change into some of her looser pajamas, collecting his clothes to put through the wash. Then she made sure he was settled on the chaise while she gathered some blankets and started the kettle on the stove.

Adrien had a very difficult time making out the blur that skittered from one end of the apartment to the other, but her words, as she chattered to herself, were unmistakeably hers.

“Mari? Is that you?” God, she hadn’t heard that name in his voice in a long time. “Where am I?”

“My apartment. It’s not much, but it’s home.” She didn’t yet ask why he’d found himself where he was, why he couldn’t have worked out his location for himself, why he almost didn’t seem to recognize her. He realized after a while that it was because she expected him to come to her with that information, and she’d wait until he was ready.

“What are you doing?” Adrien called from his seat. He didn’t quite trust himself to stand.

“First, we’ve got to get you dried off and warmed up-- do you have any idea how long you were out there? It’s been raining all day! Here,” she said as she foisted the blankets on him. “And then I’ll get started on something for us to eat. Do you have any allergies?”

“Can’t impose.”

“Nonsense! I could use the company, and you really shouldn’t go anywhere until we can be sure that you aren’t in danger of getting sick.”

“Really, I can’t.” His voice was weak, but his words were firm.

Her voice was stronger. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Marinette. I can’t... eat.” She almost didn’t hear him, because the kettle whistled, but she did.

Marinette gathered some mugs from the cupboard and prepared some tea, walking Adrien’s out to him and purposefully keeping her voice soft. Reproach, though practically instinctual, would probably have the opposite effect to what she’d intend. “Why not?”

“I’ve already had more than I should.”

“Okay, how much is that?” She’d headed back to the kitchen to investigate the contents of her pantry, but she felt his eyes on her, following her, and not in the way she wanted. He was judging her responses, tiptoeing around the truth, and the fact that he didn’t trust her stung. She knew it shouldn’t, it wasn’t as if they could call each other friends anymore, and maybe that made it hurt worse.

“1200 calories.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s a star-” The words died on her lips as she saw his expression darken. Starvation diet. “How long?”

Adrien wouldn’t meet her eyes and shrugged. “Don’t remember. 6, 8 weeks?”

“No wonder.” She turned on the balls of her feet so that she no longer faced him. “We’ll have chicken soup, then. It’s got some antiviral properties, so it’ll help boost your immune system while you get your strength back, and it probably won’t stretch your stomach too much--”

“Marinette, I can’t.”

“Excuse me, is Adrien Agreste in there?”

“Of course I am. But this is the job... I signed up for.” He was weaving in and out of consciousness, and it showed. Adrien ran a hand through his wet hair, and in the back of her mind, Marinette wished it was hers. “We’re not… we’re not teenagers... anymore.”

“Not even an hour ago, you were freezing on a park bench in the middle of a storm and practically unresponsive. You are in no position to argue.” She walked up close, trying not to think about the fact that he was basically naked underneath her pajamas. “I don’t know who got you to sell yourself short like this, and I don’t want to know. But you’ve always been the kind of person to go after what you really needed, and that’s who you need to be now. This is not worth your life. Everyone who cares about you will say that.”

Marinette padded back into the kitchen to tend to the soup, which was boiling. A small part of her was annoyed at the fact that it broke the drama of her delivery. Maybe if and when she recapped this incident to Alya, her friend would commisserate, but until then, that part of her seemed very, very selfish.

“Where are they, then?” He said finally, his voice cracking. “How come I’m here, when we haven’t even seen each other in six years?”

“You say that like I don’t care.” Her back was turned to the stove, ladling the scalding liquid into bowls. Adrien couldn’t see the pain in her face, her grip on the spoon. There was near total silence while Marinette finished cooking, and she was afraid that he’d fallen asleep on her. Waking him the first time was hard enough.

But he was awake, staring at the photographs she’d hung on her walls, her diploma from ESMOD, backstage photos from last year’s fashion week and Jagged Stone’s fifth Farewell Tour, her family’s trip to China. After failing to convince him to join her at the table, she plopped a bowl into his blanket-covered hands and sat beside him. She felt the urge again to lean into him, that gravitational pull she knew from lycée that had dragged her into orbit far too many times to count.

“Where were you?” He still hadn’t touched his food.

“I was doing you-- I was doing both of us a favor.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question, and yet the accusation was nearly tangible.

“You didn’t need yet another infatuated schoolgirl traipsing after you. I was no better than Chloe, Lila, or Aurore, or anyone else-- probably the worst, actually. You deserve someone better than that, and I deserved the opportunity to move on.”

“I didn’t know.” It came out barely above a whisper.

Marinette pressed her palm to her face. “Of course not. I didn’t want you to feel awkward around me or be pressured into something you didn’t want. And anyway, it was a long time ago.”

He laughed so suddenly and brokenly it sounded like a bark. “All that time, I thought you secretly hated me. I mean, why wouldn’t you? I got the adoration of our peers, while you had all the talent!”

“You earned that regard. I watched you do it. And our friends still liked me well enough.” Enough to hide me from you just because I asked. “Besides, talent can be overrated sometimes.” The words were heavy with the tiredness of missed sleep, the pain of rejection, the frustration that came with growth.

He tried to catch her gaze. “So can adoration.”

“Drink up.” He still hadn’t touched a drop. Her bowl was half finished, but she set it on the end table and knelt at his feet, her arms resting on his knees as she stared up at him. “Come on. You can do this.”

He didn’t budge, so she tried again. “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for the people who love you, for the people down the road who’ll love you more than you will ever know. Please.” She knew she was manipulating his weakness, but she didn’t care so long as he ate and continued eating. If he needed something to live for, then fine. She needed him to take care of himself, to last just a little bit longer. She wouldn’t forgive herself if he didn’t. He watched her thoughtfully and slowly brought the bowl up to his face, taking cautious sips until he finished the bowl.

Adrien fell asleep on the chaise not long after, and Marinette was thankful that she’d found him, at least to have this kind of closure. She pulled his legs up onto the furniture, and pushed his hair from his face. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be right back where she started, and Marinette knew she had never been particularly careful. Not when it came to him.

The lamp turned off with a soft click and she made her way to her bed in the dark, silently entreating the universe to give her Chat Noir’s night vision when she stubbed her toe on the door jamb. Marinette curled up in her sheets, drowning in wishful thinking. She hoped whatever luck she’d had today would last, she hoped that Adrien would keep safe, and, most of all, she hoped that the lonely feeling she had as she lay there night after night would finally go away.

Adrien woke to the sun streaming in from the sliding door that led to Marinette’s tiny balcony and sneezed. His head was fuzzy, and although that wasn’t a particularly new sensation, the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings made it worse.

His phone buzzed, and a notification that Natalie had called him 6 times already sent a shot of fear through him. He’d worried them, now what trouble would he be in for? Adrien’s clothes had been neatly folded and set on the end table for him to find, which helped make sense of the superhero-themed pajamas.

They still surprised him, because they didn’t look like the ones he’d seen for sale anywhere. Marinette probably made them, his brain helpfully supplied.

That’s right. Marinette. He was wearing her clothes; he’d slept in her apartment.

Adrien held the fabric to his face and sniffed, but it smelled like him. What could he have expected, that she’d give him clothes to wear that smelled like her? She was always so careful not to get too close.

And now, finally, he knew why.

He should make her breakfast, he decided, switching his phone to ‘do not disturb’ and hiding it in his pile of clothes. No one could say that he was the best person to have in the kitchen, but breakfast was simple enough.

The fridge had enough for tartine and one of the cabinets hid the coffee and mugs, so he got to work, and a few minutes later, he heard footsteps coming from the hall.

“You’re up early,” she noted.

“It’s a thank you.” He sneezed into his arm and handed her a mug. “People don’t normally take in strays.”

“Maybe people should.” She hummed in delight at the feeling of warm, bitter coffee slid down her throat. “You are making yourself a portion, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t figure you’d let me do otherwise.”

“Safe assumption. Especially since you seem a little better.” He sneezed again, and she reached across the counter for his forehead.

“You’re freezing.”

“Quite the opposite. You’re lucky it’s my day off.” She took a bite of her toast and strode down the hall to the bathroom cabinet, reaching for the cold medicine.

“You’re going to nurse me back to health, aren’t you?”

“Are you trying to stop me?” No, no, he would never.

It had been no secret between him and Nino that they’d both, at separate times, had romantic notions about their mutual friend. Nino’s had been fleeting, and well before he’d learned just how sarcastic and determined she could be. That’s where one’s feelings left off, and the other’s began.

For Adrien, it was harder to realize. Ladybug, for one thing, made it nearly impossible for him to admit to himself that he could have feelings for someone more obtainable, but it was mostly that his life revolved around using him up until he was dry-- physically, mentally, and emotionally. He knew that Nathalie only called because he was their golden goose. Otherwise, they hardly bothered to keep track of him at all.

When he’d been around Marinette, though, or any of his other friends, he felt reborn somehow. That was something that he still wasn’t used to, and he hadn’t been good about accepting their care when it mattered. Before he knew it, lycée had ended, and while he kept in touch with Nino and Max, his communication with his other friends was few and far between. Except for Marinette, he thought darkly.

It was like she’d disappeared into the ether. None of their friends talked about her, or about seeing her, but she was never declared missing. When he visited the bakery, her parents always smiled and chatted and sent him on his way, never uttering more than the standard ‘how are you’s.

So, in true Agreste fashion, he began to obsess. Ladybug, he knew, was already having a tough time, although she wouldn’t say why, and he had made it worse, only giving her more cause for her worrying. He threw himself into finding Hawkmoth and Marinette, and there wasn’t a second of free time that he didn’t spend scouring for every speck of information he could on one or the other.

They’d at least found Hawkmoth because of it-- his own father; they’d offered him reprieve in return for the miraculous, and it had hurt him more than he’d ever admit. But even after a year, there was absolutely nothing on Marinette. And that was when he’d realized what he’d lost. Whatever was left of him had shattered.

It had been 5 years since then.

The rain was just the icing on the cake. He was hungry, and dizzy, and tired, but between work and the strict schedule that still held him hostage, there wasn’t room for any of that. I’m just burnt out. I need to find the way back to loving what I do. It was a lie he told himself to keep going, but it hadn’t gotten old yet.

The amount of cheese it took to get Plagg to steal Marinette’s address was outrageous. Luckily for him it was written on a note in the office of her parent’s business, because he’d run out of places to look.

By the time he’d even gotten close, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, much less stand. Adrien thought he’d just take a seat on that bench, but before he knew it, she was there, looking down at him as water poured from the heavens.

She looked like an angel.

It was Saturday, and he’d stayed at Marinette’s apartment under the pretense of her nursing him through his cold. They’d played Mecha Strike for old times’ sake, and he used the excuse of being sick to make up for the fact that she thrashed him mercilessly. They’d watched movies, and he’d eaten more than he had in a long time. He could feel his stomach as it pressed outwards, distended but somehow content.

Adrien wished that this wouldn’t end, that this would be them 1, 5, 20 years from now. The sun was setting, and the hazy, pinkish hue washed over the both of them, and he thought that this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. He didn’t want to lose this moment.

Starting a playlist on his phone took little more than a thought, but getting Marinette to dance with him in her living room was considerably more difficult. Still, she giggled as he pulled her up from the couch and brought his hand to her waist. “What are you up to, Adrien Agreste?”

“Oh, how formal!” He sniffled and grinned as they clumsily swayed. She needed to be closer; he needed to know if her heart was hammering in her chest the way his was. He needed to know if she felt the same way he did, the same way she’d felt before.

There was no chance he was going to let her get away without knowing.

Her lips were chapped, and his face was scratchy with stubble, but that didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t push him away. “You’re going to give me that cold of yours!”

“Kissing for at least half an hour actually boosts your immune system. So you’d still be nursing me back to health.” He smirked, eyes holding hers. “What do you say?”

He could hear her breath hitch. “Yes.” Their lips pressed against each other again. “Yes.” Then he found his way across her cheek to her jaw and then her neck. “Yes.” And she said yes until her bed no longer felt lonely.

* * *

 

Sirens in the distance woke her. While Akumas were no longer a problem, that didn’t stop superheroes from being needed sometimes. That night, apparently, was no exception. Marinette quietly escaped to the bathroom and ran the sink to make it sound like a shower was running in the hopes that Adrien wouldn’t get suspicious.

Adrien, however, had heard the sounds as well, and as soon as she’d shut the door, he’d clambered out of bed, grabbed his pants and his phone, and ran out onto the balcony, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him. Just in case he had to detransform, he wouldn’t want to get arrested for public indecency, and he didn’t want Marinette to know that he’d left, either.

When all was said and done, Marinette was the first to get back, with Chat Noir not far behind, both fragile from pulling survivors from below tons of debris. She climbed back in the bathroom window, shut off the sink, and crept back towards her bed, thrilled at the prospect of the warmth and thrum of another person... only to find it empty.

She raced into the living room, nearly hysterical, looking for a note-- anything!-- but there was nothing to be found. Adrien watched the light flick on as he’d approached, and it made him halt. It’s not like he could go back in the way he came with her right there. Besides, while he wouldn’t say he was great at reading lips, it wasn’t hard to tell what she was saying as she paced back and forth.

What had she done? How could she make such a big mistake? She should never have done this.

No, it wasn’t hard at all to tell that he wasn’t wanted there.


	2. TWO

He was running ahead of her, tail flapping in the wind. Patrol was supposed to be them going together, covering each other as they canvassed the city from above. It helped the city feel safer. For once, he wasn’t the one slowing them down. She didn’t feel well, and it seemed that neither did he, because he was throwing himself across the rooftops, his feet barely landing on the ground.

Suddenly, his bad luck caught up to him. “Chat!” she cried. She couldn’t run to him, he was too far away, so she lassoed a chimney and swung to catch him.

They landed on the next roof, panting from exertion and fear. “You scared me! What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want to talk about it," he huffed. “Can’t we just keep going?”

But Ladybug was still panting. “Hold on. Let me catch my breath.” It wasn’t her breath that needed catching. A few heaving breaths were all it took for her to retch onto the roof in front of her, grabbing at the railing for support.

Chat was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”

There goes that secret, she thought mirthlessly. “I’m fine, Chat. I just… may not be able to keep up with you so well for a little while.”

“What? How long is a little while?”

“About 7-ish months.” His eyes narrowed and his brow creased in confusion. “Okay, fine. I’m pregnant. Just confirmed it this morning- about 10 weeks in.” She slumped down onto the hard, scratchy surface. It was a good thing that over the years, they’d reached a common ground. She opened up to his affectionate nature, and he’d stopped flirting. So she didn’t feel guilty about telling him this, just relieved that she had somebody to tell. “God, I haven’t even told my parents.”

“They’ll be happy for you. They always are.”

“That’s because I’ve never strayed farther than a few tardies from the straight and narrow. This is… uncharted waters.”

“Why would it be?”

“I’m not married, Chat. I’m not even dating the guy. He-- I--” she started choking up. “If I even said who he is, I could hurt so many people.”

“Does he know?”

That’s when Ladybug lost it. The tears flooded her face. “I can’t face him! He must hate me!” She wiped at her eyes with her fists, and then whispered, “I took advantage of the situation. He was just emotional at the time; he doesn’t have feelings for me. I should’ve known that. I should’ve stopped him, but I’ve been in love with him for so long.... I don’t think I could deny him anything. I can barely stand to be in my own apartment anymore because of it.”

It was true. After that offensive little plus sign had shown up on her test, she’d thrown herself into her work, even going so far as to sleep on the couch at work more than she did on her own bed. Her friends at work were getting suspicious, but if they knew more than she’d already told them, then they hadn’t said a word about it.

She just felt alien there. The fullness of her was so out of place in the emptyness of what had for years been her home. He’d taken something when he’d left, and while he’d given her something in trade, she wasn’t sure it was equal. It certainly didn’t feel fair.

“I know the feeling.”

“Huh?”

“Someone I care about is shutting me out again. We got into a tricky situation, and now she’s ignoring me, she won’t open the door. She-” his voice caught. “I’m just trying to tell her that I love her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Here I was afraid you’d only ever have eyes for Ladybug,” she joked.

“You mean you.”

“I’m not Ladybug. I just wear the costume. I’m just M-” she sighed, realizing that she’d almost given away her identity. “I’m just me.”

“I doubt that.”

“So tell me about her. What’s the story between you and this lady of yours?”

“We used to know each other in school, and she was… amazing. I didn’t know it then, but she’d had a crush on me. And I didn’t have a clue.” He shook his head while she rested her head on her knees, watching him thoughtfully. “I thought I lost her, and of course that was when I realized I’d been in love with her the whole time. So as soon as I could, I went to see her.” Even in the dark, Ladybug could see the blush that crept over his skin, from just above the bell on his collar to the tips of his ears. “I was hoping seeing her would be enough, but instead it got complicated, fast. Shouldn’t be surprised she doesn’t want an alley cat like me around, really. My life is… pretty messed up. Who’d want to get involved with that?”

Ladybug bumped against him in an act of comfort. “She’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, then you’ll find someone else. But you’ll make it, that much I know. You always have.”

“Thanks.” They sat silently for a while, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asked her, “Are you going to keep it?”

“In a way, this is like a dream come true.” She sighed. “As a teenager, I had my whole life mapped out. I’d marry Ad-- him, and we’d have three kids and a hamster, and I’d get my dream job, and he’d have his, and-- this may be the closest I’ll ever get to that.”

“Maybe you’re wrong.” She looked horrified for a moment. “I can’t think of anyone not loving you.”

Ladybug smiled and nudged his shoulder playfully. “You’re a sap.”

“Says the one who wants three kids and a hamster.”

* * *

 

They’d had this argument too many times before. She didn’t want to listen.

“Chat, I’m fine.”

“It’s fine when we’re just patrolling, but those men had guns! Ladybug, you cannot put yourself in danger like that!” It was true, they did have guns. They were also taller and heavier than she would ever be. Convincing her that she couldn’t take them head on, though, was downright sisyphean.

“We’re a team,” she hissed. “I’m not about to let you do this on your own.”

“I’m not--” he ran a hand through his hair that made her brokenly think of Adrien. It made her put a hand to her stomach, which only made him look more worried. “I’m not asking you to stop being Ladybug. But would it kill you to be more careful?”

“I am careful--”

“Fighting someone over a handgun is not considered careful!”

“This coming from the person who has literally dived into harm’s way!”

Chat laughed, the tension broken. “I think you mean litter-ally.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and rested her back against the roof access door. “Listen, she’s not going anywhere. She’s healthy as can be.”

“Bee?” He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed.

“Sure.”

Then, in an instant, Chat’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Wait, she?”

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?” Ladybug smiled. “Now I just need to pick a name.”

“Oh, yeah, the hard part,” he teased.

“Shut up! I want to do it right.”

“Well, you could always name her after someone.”

“I used to have names picked out, but they just sound wrong somehow.”

He thought for a moment before his face lit up like a lightbulb. “Okay, so remember how you said she’s like the one part of her father you get to keep? Why don’t you name her after your favorite thing about him?”

“How would I do that?”

“Hear me out, there are plenty of names that have weird meanings. So it wouldn’t be obvious. And then you’d have a reminder of all of the good that’s come from knowing him.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds nice. I like it.”

* * *

 

She landed a few feet behind where Chat was sitting, looking over the city with a dour expression. “You okay?”

Immediately, he put a happy expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. How are you? How’s the little Lady?”

“She’s kicking up a storm, same as usual. Maybe she’ll be a footballer!” He tried to keep himself from crying, but it wasn’t quite working. This should be him and Marinette.

He had needed to tell her that she was right. That working himself to the bone wasn’t even what he wanted, that he’d changed his whole life, and that he wanted her to be a part of it.

And then he’d seen them.

Marinette’s bump was so small that she couldn’t be that far along, and the two of them were smiling as they went into the boutique. He was handsome, he’d grant her that, with his dark hair and lively brown eyes. The way she beamed at him was nearly blinding.

“Is this about your lady love?”

“See, you know it’s an off day when you’re the one telling the puns.” He wiped at his eyes, even though the tears hadn’t shed yet. “I was going to see her today, and I was almost to her street when there she was… with someone else. For a second, I thought she looked my way, but the way she smiled at him! And then, then--”

He had to put his face in his hands and remember how to breathe. “They’re having a baby together. She looks so happy, and I wish it was me next to her. I mean, we’re young, and it’s stupid, but I’d give anything for that baby to be mine.”

Ladybug wrapped her arms around Chat and held him while his tears slid down her suit to the roof below. “I’m so sorry, minou. It’ll happen for you someday, and you’ll be a great parent! Clémence and I are already so lucky to have you.”

That only made him hold her tighter, and for a few minutes, the only sounds were of the city, moving below as if their heartbreak never existed. Chat was the first to pull away, rubbing at his face and pushing back his unruly hair. And again, it struck Ladybug how much he looked like Adrien. But she pushed the thought away, saying, “Ah, well, this will cheer you up! This little one’s got a name.”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking about what I liked best about A-- her father, and then it hit me. He has this never-ending supply of kindness, even for people who can be so cruel. I want my daughter to be like that, to remind her that she has that capacity as well. So,” and she paused for effect as if someone would spontaneously do a drum roll, “meet Clémence!”

Chat gestured towards her slightly protruding belly. “May I?”

“Sure!” He came closer and rested his hand over where the baby was currently kicking.

“Hi there, Clémence.”

“You are one lucky baby, you know that? Your mother is one of the best people in the entire world, and she has so many people that love her. They’re gonna love you, too.” His voice was almost hoarse. “And you should know that I will always, always be there for you, little lady.”

“Tell her stuff like that, and I’m sure she’ll hold you to it.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “I’m all right with that. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m not. Not really. I’ve got my friends, my coworkers, my parents. Actually, one of the others at my firm took me out to buy fabric for what will be the cutest little onesies you’ve ever seen!” She gushed about all of the things that people had done to support her, about how her best friend had basically taken on the role of surrogate aunt, and how excited her parents were now that the baby was so close to being born.

“I still want to help, too, you know. You’re my partner.”

Ladybug smiled at him and gestured for a hug. “Thank you. You’ve been so supportive.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

“Not this time. Things are different now, and… someone should know who I am. It’ll be safer for her.”

“Are you going to be okay with all of this?”

“As much as I can be. I mean, it’s not that I don’t wish that I could be doing this with her father. Everywhere I look, I’ll see his face, or I’ll see him on the news-- even today I thought I saw him--, and I wonder what it would be like if things were different. Would he like her name? Would he talk to her or sing to her? Would he obsess over the nursery?” She shook her head. “I get the feeling that she’s going to look just like him, too, and people are going to guess right off the bat. And it worries me, Chat. None of us need that kind of publicity.”

“Who is this guy, anyway?”

“The only person who knows is my other best friend, and she’s sworn to secrecy.”

She remembered vividly when she’d told Alya. It was the Friday after she’d told Chat, and her best friend was complaining all day about how busy they were that they never got to see each other, so she made the time.

Alya had picked the place, a little cafe down the road from where Marinette worked, and once they’d settled down at the table for lunch, she’d just come out and said it. She’d told her the whole thing, because honestly she couldn’t go another minute without somebody knowing. And Alya sat there, wide-eyed, taking it all in while she related how she found him in the park, and how they’d danced in her apartment, and how he’d disappeared afterwards. How now she was having a baby, and she didn’t want him to know, so that she wouldn’t cause him any more trouble.

“Trouble. You. Caused him trouble.” It had taken her friend a few moments to process everything, but once she had, she whipped out her cellphone, her words dripping with anger. “I’m going to kick his ass so hard-”

“Alya, please!” They didn’t need to make a scene.

“Don’t ‘Alya’ me! I told him to drop it years ago, and then he goes and pulls this!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he noticed when you cut off contact after lycée, and I stood by you then, and I’ll stand by you now.” Alya had grasped Marinette’s hand across the table, squeezing it in sympathy. “He hurt you, and I only want to see that he gets what he deserves.”

“Please, don’t.” Her face had been so serious that it looked to her friend as if she could have been another person, and it made Alya hate Adrien even more than she had moments before. She’d said, “I need you to promise not to tell.”

“I promise not to tell,” Chat offered quietly.

“Please, don’t ask again. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but the more people who know, the more likely it is for word to get out.”

He nodded slowly. “I understand.”

They kept talking and decided that he’d visit her in the hospital to help welcome Clémence to the world in true superhero style. He’d be bringing a Chat Noir balloon to identify himself, and then Chat, Alya, and Marinette would all move her into Marinette’s apartment together.

“We should get going, shouldn’t we?”

Both of them tried to finish patrol as quickly as possible, each caught up in their own heads. Their worries and longing were the only villains that night, but oh, were they fierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really tricky trying to figure out how these two could talk to each other about each other without being stupidly oblivious or giving each other away. I mean real, stupid hard. Please let me know how you think it turned out. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll post the ending tomorrow! Hope you're enjoying this train wreck, and thanks for reading!


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna come out and say that this baby is the real MVP. Also, I cried real tears for this, and I hope you do, too.

Clémence had come early. The first thing Marinette did was call Alya, who screamed and ran out of her office, terrified coworkers jumping out of her way. The whole ordeal was a blur from start to finish, but it hadn’t been awful. She’d feared that for a long time.

Now her little bundle was wrapped up in her arms, pink and sleepy and tow-headed. Alya had cooed over how adorable she was, and now that the baby was finally sleeping, she’d asked her friend to grab her something to drink. Not that she was particularly thirsty. In all reality, she just wanted a moment alone.

Marinette hummed a tune her mother used to sing, her mind running through all of the decisions she’d need to make for certain once she brought her daughter home. Would she work from home for a while, or hire a nanny, or have her parents babysit? Or would she find a better home for her?

Surely there were people more deserving, and even as she cradled her child and knew that she loved her, she wasn’t sure she was the right person to be a mother. Maybe it was just nerves, or that the culmination of all of this waiting was getting to her, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from replaying themselves a million times in her head.

Adrien, who was pacing outside the hospital’s lobby, also had doubts. He had a basket full of gifts for Clémence tucked under one arm, with the Chat Noir balloon tied to it. His other hand was occupied with a small bouquet for one of the two loves he’d had in his life.

He wondered if that was too much, too romantic, when it seemed rather obvious that their hearts stupidly belonged to people who didn’t love them. And then there was the issue of their identities. When he walked in that door, when he saw them, their partnership-- no, their lives-- would never go back to how they were. He wasn’t ready, he told himself over and over.

“Are you all right?” A nurse asked from the door.

Great, now I look like a crazy person. “I’m fine, thanks.” Just nervous. Adrien pushed his sunglasses farther up his nose in the hopes that no one had recognized him yet. And with that, he followed them inside, nerves be damned.

He made his way to the maternity suites and asked for where baby Clémence was. The nurse on duty had looked at him strangely, but pointed him in the right direction, so he thanked them. The glasses, once he’d set foot on the right floor, had been removed and slid into the breast pocket of his shirt. Even though he knew babies were messy, he’d dressed nicely. It seemed appropriate to him.

Adrien made his way down the hall, searching for the right door, when there was a startled gasp. Alya’s hair was shorter than it had been in school, but he’d still know her anywhere. Adrien gave her a small wave and a smile. “Hi!”

“You. How did you--? Why are you--? What are you doing here?” she spluttered, trying for everyone’s sake not to raise her voice.

For his part, Adrien tried not to read into it. “A friend of mine had a baby. Her name’s Clémence.”

“The mother?” Oh, God, please, she thought. Let it be someone else.

“No, the baby.” Alya brought her hand to her mouth before she could say something that she’d regret. She remembered something about a surprise coming with a Chat Noir balloon, but Marinette hadn’t said a thing about who would be bringing it.

“Wait here, and give me that. I’ll tell you if you can come in.”

“Oh, you know them, too?” Alya rolled her eyes.

“Just stay there.” He handed her the basket, the balloon bouncing along behind her as she opened the door to the maternity suite and walked inside.

Marinette looked up at the sound of the door, and her eyes immediately gravitated toward the balloon. “Chat’s here! Where is he?”

“Chat?” Alya shook her head. “Listen, Mari, I don’t know if you want to see him--”

“Of course I do.” Her face radiated hopefulness, and Alya didn’t want to be the one responsible for diminishing even a part of it.

“Mari, I--”

“Please, let me see him.”

“Okay. Fine. I’m going to take a walk.” She set the basket on the table beside the bed and retreated to the hallway.

Even though she was significantly shorter than Adrien, Alya still managed to be intimidating. “If you hurt them, Agreste, I swear it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Okay?”

“I mean it.”

He gulped, still miraculously oblivious. “Okay.”

Adrien pushed open the door to see Marinette gently stroking the light, wispy hair on Cémence’s head. “Mari?”

She hadn’t looked up, her mind still overflowing with thoughts and her attention still on her little bundle. “Chat? How do you know my name?”

He didn’t know how to answer, and so he stood there silently. When she didn’t hear anything, Marinette raised her eyes and gasped.

“Can I see her?”

“I-- umm-- sure. Adrien--?” He took her words as a sign to move closer, standing beside her as he peered down that the infant that was starting to squirm in her mother’s hold.

“--you can call me Chat if it makes you feel better.” He was trying, and barely succeeding, to keep his smile on his face. But he knew that once his smile faltered, he’d be in tears, too.

“So you are Chat.” She sounded disappointed.

His, on the other hand, were filled with admiration. “And you’re Ladybug.”

There was a tense silence. Adrien could hardly think of what to say to her without wanting to blurt out everything he was thinking. She probably wouldn’t want to hear any of it. Clémence finally opened her big, green eyes and gurgled something unintelligible. “She’s such a cute baby,” he said finally.

Marinette looked up and him and smiled weakly before looking down again. “That’s because I was right. She does look like her dad.”

“If I were him, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Please don’t say things like that, Adrien.”

“Sorry.” He finally remembered the flowers he brought for her, and showed them to her before setting them down and going through the gifts he brought for Clémence while she cooed appreciatively. It was probably because of the colors and the movement, but Marinette was just happy for the distraction. Talking to him, like this, holding their daughter, was slowly killing her.

“You know, I figured she’d have darker hair.”

Marinette shook her head. “It may not stay this light, but her father’s a blond, so you never know.”

“Wait, he’s blond?” She nodded. “I thought I almost ran into the two of you a couple months ago. Tall and tan, brown hair, brown eyes?”

“Luigi! He’s a designer at the label with me. He says Clémence will be his little doll, and he’ll dress her up whenever I’m not looking.” She laughed. “I’d have to not be looking, or I’d be convinced the other designers would try to make her a model.”

“It wasn’t so bad, not as a kid.”

She hummed noncommittally. “Would you say that if she were your kid?”

“No! No.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I see your point.”

Marinette complained that her arm was falling asleep, so Adrien picked Clémence out of her arms and cradled her, running a finger down her nose while her green eyes sleepily attempted to follow.

“So when are we going to move you guys into your apartment? Do you want me to pick you up? My car is tiny, but we can probably figure out how to fit a carseat in there so we won’t have to take her on public transportation.”

“Adrien, you really don’t have to do that.”

“I already said I would. And believe me, I just bought this car, so it’s super clean. It’s a little sedan, perfectly safe.”

“I would’ve figured you for a sportscar.”

“No, no.” He laughed as the baby made a cute face. “Can’t afford one, even if I wanted it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I broke my contract, and as you can imagine, my father does not take that sort of thing lightly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! I’m happier now because you were right. About all of it.”

“I was?” Her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Does that surprise you?” He smiled like Chat, and if she hadn’t felt certain that they were the same person, she would’ve been completely convinced. “So, I broke my contract, I’m out of the industry, and now I’ve got a job at a news magazine while I’m taking classes online. It hasn’t been easy, but I hoped you’d be proud of what I’ve done.”

Both Marinette and Clémence seemed pretty beat. The baby had already stopped making much noise, and her mother’s eyes were quickly drooping closed. When he could tell for sure that she was sleeping, he used one hand to push her hair from her face, caressing her cheek. “I’d do it all again for you.”

* * *

 

The time came for them to get the little lady settled in at home, and both of her parents were complete and utter wrecks. But that didn’t stop Adrien from trying to carry everything into the apartment by himself, including Clémence. Marinette had to pry something out of his arms so he wouldn’t drop her.

She still felt bad about how she’d left things with Alya, but he’d insisted on picking them up, and no matter how many times she’d tried to tell him no, it hadn’t come out right. And as much as they were both angry and hurt about the whole thing, she knew that their friendship wasn’t broken by this, that Clémence’s Auntie Alya would still be by tomorrow and the next, and the day after that.

Marinette knew that she would do everything to be the same for her friend. Everybody just needed time to get a grip on the situation, as weird as it was.

Marinette stood on the threshhold of her apartment, running a hand through her hair as Adrien singlehandedly deposited the baby gear around her living room, animatedly conversing with his daughter.

Change a few key details, and this would have been the beginning of a beautiful dream.

But this was life, and she had to show up and live it. She walked towards them and gestured to take the baby from where he cradled her in the crook of his arm. “You know you didn’t have to do this.”

“I got her. Where’s the nursery?”

“Really, Adrien. It’s okay.”

“I’m just putting her down for a nap.” He walked with Clémence down the hall and into what had once been Marinette’s sewing room, laying her down gently in her crib. Then he smiled and brushed her cheek. All day, really since he first saw her, Adrien had been caught up in the what-ifs he’d concocted. In his way, he was grieving the loss of it, and this beautiful, real life gently mocked him, not with scorn but with sweetness.

If only she were his child and Marinette was his lover, if only he didn’t have to leave them at night, or at all, and he could teach her how to enjoy life. He would, if he could, teach her to make the absolute most of it, just for herself. He would teach her how to love another human being completely, if only by showing her an example.

It wasn’t lost on him that the two women he’d fallen in love with had ended up being the same person. He looked a Clémence as she snuffled and wriggled in her crib, just a hair’s breath from waking, and decided he wouldn’t prefer it any other way.

Meanwhile, Marinette plopped onto the couch and stretched her legs. Was she being ridiculous about this? It would help to have another set of hands around, and he is her father.

But that’s just the thing-- he’s her father. Not only did he leave her in the middle of the night, but he never came back, never said a word, and he didn’t know the pudgy, pink infant from any other baby.

And besides, he obviously loved somebody else. Getting up at 3am to feed Clémence was already going to be torture enough.

Adrien walked back into the room, catching Marinette’s expression as she gazed out the window. “What’s the matter? Are you hurting?”

She shook her head, keeping her voice low as she croaked, “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

She’d been saying the same things all day, and the day before that, too. Exasperated, he only said, “I want to help.”

Somebody must have told him, she reasoned. He must feel obligated to help, or he wouldn’t be here. “You just shouldn’t feel like you have to-”

“Would you stop? I promised Clémence. I promised you, Mari. I won’t go back on that.”

“But that’s just the thing! You didn’t know it was me. I can’t expect you to do this, and that’s all right.” He kept getting closer to her, and she struggled to keep from remembering what it felt like to have his hands, his breath, his lips on her skin. For that too brief moment, she had felt worshipped, and now more like a cheap trinket of a long-forgotten idol. That was her mistake, and she didn’t want to make it again.

“What makes you think-- Mari, what have I done?-- to make you think that this doesn’t make me want to be here more?”

“You left--”

“Paris needed us. And when I got back, all I could hear you say was--” Oh, she knew. How this was a huge mistake, and how could she have been so stupid. “I thought you regretted everything, so I thought you wouldn’t want a reminder.” Now, of all times, he had trouble meeting her eyes. If that was the truth, he couldn’t bear to see it in her face, but that wouldn’t stop his curiosity from plaguing him. “Do you, Mari?”

“I don’t understand. Don’t you?”

“No. I was looking for you, I’d been trying to find you for years, and then--” he cut himself off, terrified that he’d said too much. “I don’t regret it.”

Marinette couldn’t hold back any longer, tears silently racing down the planes of her face. Her chest ached, squeezed in upon itself further and further as her body tried in vain to quell her anguish.

“I know you love Clémence’s father, and I won’t ask you to choose me instead, but would you tell me his name?” Adrien swallowed thickly. “I can’t stand it that some nameless, faceless person has what I’d give up everything for.”

The tears and her emotions had made her voice incomprehensible in its disuse. “His name is Adrien Agreste,” she blubbered.

To him, the words sounded more like someone gargling. “What?”

“His name,” she said, clearer this time, “His name is Adrien Agreste.” Marinette’s hands were shaking from the effort of holding still. Instinct told her to run, to hide, anything to keep from having to admit the truth that lay in those words.

His shock did not dissuade her instincts. “What?!” he whispered.

“It’s you, you dumb cat.”

His hands were all over his face while he whispered profanities and exclamations repeatedly. Marinette found it disheartening. “Like I said, you can go. I won’t judge you.”

In an instant, his hands were on her hands, his eyes wide with terror. “No!” he begged. “God, please, Mari, I’ll do anything you ask, in and out of the suit, but please, please don’t ask me to leave you.”

He took her silence to mean that she would, if only he hadn’t asked, so he quickly got up from the couch and hurried to where Clémence was still asleep. Adrien didn’t dare wake her, though he wanted to etch her green eyes into his memory, and he found himself mumbling a long, fervent, rambling goodbye. All of the things he wanted for her, how much he loved her and her mother, every wish he had for her future he poured out into the world.

So he didn’t notice Marinette standing in the doorway, listening to it all and fiddling with a key ring. When he did, his face fell.

At seeing his expression, so did hers. “Right now’s probably a good time to get going.”

“Yeah, sure. You’re probably right.”

Before she could overthink it, she grabbed his hand and he felt cold metal in his palm. “Would you get a copy made while you’re out? I’m going to get a nap while she’s still asleep.”

It was a key. Her key. Adrien’s eyes flickered between her and the object in his hands. “I could kiss you.”

“Kiss me when you come back. Then we’ll figure this out.”

* * *

 

It was raining when he returned, duffel slung over his shoulder while juggling shopping bags filled with groceries and other odds and ends. His nerves had been alight at the very thought of her allowing him to touch her again; it had been agony to be away for so long. Who could blame him for rushing back, nearly flinging food into the refrigerator so that he could vault the one final hurdle between him and her?

Marinette, he found, was nestled between blankets, watching the storm play out in the alley between buildings. She turned as she heard him open the door and smiled, her voice hopeful but unsure. “I kind of figured you’d be back.”

“Princess,” he asked as he leaned in to kiss her. “Don’t you know what happens when you feed a stray?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Thank you for all your wonderful comments and support for this steaming pot of awful! It's been fun!


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